92. Humans?

A few hours after that, after I had taken yet another nap after downing the whole water bottle, I find myself surrounded by a group of people who are not masked with those ridiculous balaclavas.

It’s the most disorienting thing, actually. Because I had no idea that I would find so many faces staring at me when I open my eyes to the light of the cabin for the second time that day.

And all these faces are young. Around the same age as I am.

I did not realize that the man who I called Chief is around my age. He’s a brunette who looks positively elven, with his pale skin and amber eyes, high cheekbones, and hollowed cheeks that would give Angelina Jolie a run for her money.

I don’t know why but for some reason I’d envisioned him as some sort of tattooed, mustached villain type with a bald head under the balaclava. Serves me right for stereotyping all criminals I suppose.

What comes as more of a shock than the people and the chief’s surprisingly young face so the two people standing next t
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